


On the Other Side

by Ygrain



Series: Connor Shepard [7]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 20,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ygrain/pseuds/Ygrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The years when Connor Shepard wasn't exactly a book officer seemed long gone, until he found himself resurrected into another life by Cerberus, and on top of it, falling for the most improbable woman: a crazy biotic with a criminal record more extensive than her tattoos. Jack-Shepard romance, from both PoVs. A series of drabbles, hopefully chronological. Expect Jackisms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Among the Lost

**Author's Note:**

> For the new readers: I'd like to point you to some other works of mine which are related and might be referenced - though you are, of course, most welcome to read everything :-)
> 
> Shepard's pre-Akuze life is featured in chapters 2 and 3 of Unmemorabilia, and be warned, this is a collection of stories where he doesn't exactly shine.
> 
> The events of Akuze are told in detail in Long Days, Long Nights, and the debriefing that followed is chapter 4 of the Anderson collection Between the Past and the Future. His convalescence after Akuze is chapter 4 of Unmemorabilia and a catharsis of sorts will be a stand-alone story A Measure of Things, but I'm afraid this plot bunny is still running free for the time being.
> 
> Shepard's first experience with Cerberus aka his revival and roots of his dislike of Miranda are set in chapter 1 of Unmemorabilia and further played on in Detrimental to the Mission, on a somewhat humorous note.

Seeing the supposedly prospective team member, Shepard seriously doubts the Illusive Man's sanity. Sure, he has read the dossier. Sure, he knew that the person had a long criminal record and probably wouldn't be easy to get on with. Sure, the display of biotic powers was more than impressive.

Except that the angry knot of biotics, skinny limbs, tattered clothes, extensive tattoos and leather… harness… seems so deranged that she might actually be nearing normalcy from the other side. – Ah yes,  _she_ , despite the name.

Probably.

There's definitely nothing feminine about her, and the quick glimpse of the Sleeping Beauty in the cryo must have been someone else. The lips have lost their fullness as they are twisted and baring teeth, there is only a mild swell to the chest under the leather straps, she stands crouched with her fists balled, her biotic aura glowing – Shepard suddenly finds in himself a certain degree of understanding for the recently demised Warden Kuril to keep Jack in cryogenic stasis. He would have done the same, though preferably in a mental institution. With very, very thick walls.

To his right, he hears Garrus producing subvocal sound, unmistakably signifying amusement; to his left, Taylor slightly shuffles and clears his throat.

_Yeah, sure. If we don't take her along, we have just blown a prison ship and released dozens of dangerous criminals for nothing._

He sighs.  _Time to pull a Shepard – provided that she can be reasoned with._

He feels no little relief when it turns out that yes, she can.

As her face relaxes from the furious expression, her eyes are no longer narrowed. They are, in fact, large and deep brown and, surprisingly, very beautiful.

With hindsight, he realizes that he was lost as early as then.


	2. More Than Bargained For

"You promised her  _what_?"

If for nothing else but the glorious rare sight of Lawson totallybeside herself, the crazy convict's presence has turned out invaluable, and Shepard savours every moment.

Sprawling on the chair while chewing on an energy bar – sixth or seventh after they left the Purgatory, and by the looks of her, definitely not the last – Jack sneers, not bothering to swallow first: "You heard, bitch. Your precious Cerberus files about me. You owe me that, you bastards. Every dirty little secret."

Taylor looks as if he wished to be at least ten feet underground and Lawson stutters something about "not possible" and what not, so Shepard leans his shoulder against the wall and folds his arms on his chest. "Really, what's the problem, Lawson? It's not like no-one knew already that you Cerberus guys take pleasure in drowning kittens, and I'm sure that you have plenty of  _inconsequential_ staff that can be thrown under the bus for the sake of the greater good, so what harm can come from letting her have the files? Isn't it just a small sacrifice for the success of the mission?"

He receives a murderous look before Lawson finally regains composure and nods stiffly. "I will prepare the files and access codes for her."

Jack bares her teeth in a feral grin, and Shepard briefly wonders what her personal score with Cerberus is… or what else there might be to find out. In a rush of adrenaline, he hears himself say: "Oh, and while you are at it, get me a copy, as well. I want me some fancy reading for beddy time, now that we're all buddy-buddy and such. You know what I want."

Lawson nods, stiffly and sharply, and the convict glances at him, her eyes narrowed, while Shepard deflects both their looks with a poker face.

One thing is certain: if he ever lives to carry out his reckoning with Cerberus, one hell of a biotic with a common grudge might come handy, provided that she doesn't blow the ship or herself first.

 


	3. In Your Face

"Hey."

She stops with a snarl: there is nothing she wishes more than to find a safe dark corner and hit the sack, if safety can be had on a Cerberus ship.

His Fucking Awesomeness Commander Shepard catches up with her. "Just one thing. I want you to go for a check-up to the medbay –"

"The  _fuck_  I'm going to let some Cerberus scum get his paws on me!"

Shepard inhales. "Doctor Chakwas is with  _me_ , not with Cerberus," he says softly, and pointedly.

She gives him a  _look_  –  _fat difference, fucker_  – and jerks her shoulder. "Fuck, I said  _no_." Turning on her heel, she starts away from him – and she stumbles into a muscular arm that has blocked her way out of nowhere, and the fucking bastard is suddenly  _looming_  above her.

"I'll say this just once," he says, in a tone that makes her want to cringe. "First, Doctor Chakwas is my friend and you will treat her with respect. Second, the moment you are on my team, I must be sure that you are in top shape, which you are clearly not, after universe knows how long in cryo stasis, with unhealed bruises. Third, when I say 'jump', you ask 'how high', or I'm dumping you on the first habitable word we fly by, I won't have in my team anyone who has problems following my orders. "

She stands there, blinking at him, for several seconds, before she manages to master herself. She sneers into his face. "Well, you still haven't given me those files, so I'm  _not_ on your team yet, sweetheart."

He slightly raises his eyebrows. "Fair enough. But the moment I give you these, you go to the medlab, even if I am to kick your ass out of bed."

"Whatever," she retorts, and with a slight hesitation, he lets her go.

"Dick," she mutters, not really caring if he hears her or not, and carries on, a bit surprised that he noticed the bruises under the tattoos at all.


	4. Payments, Interests

**Payments, Interests**

He takes care to be heard when approaching but perhaps unnecessarily: the metallic catwalks resonate with even the slightest step. The underbelly of the engineering simply wasn’t designed for stealth access.

Even so, as he gets near the hideout among the crates, he announces himself aloud, just in case: “Jack? That’s me, Shepard. I’m bringing you the data and some stuff you might need.”

A sleek shadow emerges with feline grace, her eyes glistening in the dim light. Yet she makes no move as he arranges his load on the nearest crate. “You’ve got here an omnitool with both intranet and extranet access, some protein bars and energy drinks, hygiene stuff and clothes – all logoed, I’m afraid, but you will have a chance to get yourself something more to your liking as soon as we hit some civilisation. You’ve got a credit chit there, as well, with enough for the basics. If you need something more expensive, you tell me. As for the weapons and battle gear, we’ll equip you.”

An impatient gesture and a snort. “Yeah, whatever. Now, my payment.”

“There. The datapads.”

There is a considerable stock of them, and her eyes gleam at the sight. When he puts his hand over them, she snarls. “Don’t try to screw with me,” she warns him in a low voice.

Shepard remains unaffected. “You’ll have plenty of time to read them after you get back from the medbay. You’re to report there as soon as you get the data, remember?”

“Fuck you,” she mutters but without the previous edge. Watching him, she reaches for an energy bar. “Your doctor will have to wait, I’m hungry.”

“That’s why I brought these. You can grab some and eat them on your way. And get a drink, as well, you must be dehydrated.”

“You’re gonna wipe my arse for me, as well?”

“No, but I’ve arranged you a solid breakfast after you’re done with Doctor Chakwas. The mess hall is right next to the medbay.”

Shrugging, she tears open a package and bites at the bar, then snatches a drink in the other hand. The pile of clothes remains ignored. “After you. And don’t you even think of trying something.”

“If I wanted to try something, I’d have had plenty of opportunity. You’d been out cold for fifteen hours. ‘Been here twice, making as much noise as I could, yet you never woke up.”

“That’s a lie, you fucker!”

He cocks his head. “EDI? What time did Jack come on board and what time is it now?”

The blue holo materializes above the comm at the entrance, to provide the required information, and he is able to predict the convict’s reaction as she realizes all the ramifications even before she voices it: “ _Fuck._ Fuck you all, bastards!”

 _Yep. Just don’t_ you _even think of trying something._


	5. By Profession

Studying the scans, Doctor Chakwas resists the urge to rub her temples. Recent bruises, older bruises, scars from fight, scars from ruthless surgery, knitted fractures, repaired teeth, abuse, malnutrition….

Biologically, the girl is in her early twenties; mentally, her medical record suffices for a lifetime of nightmares.

Yet, with al her tattoos, arrogantly lazed poises and provocative vocabulary, Chakwas sees nothing but a girl, and to that girl, she forgives what normally would annoy her to no end.

"So? Is that all?" comes a question in a tone which Chakwas immediately recognizes as enough of a provocation to make a person snap while Jack might still claim doing nothing wrong.

"Yes," the doctor replies peacefully, "we're done for now –"

"Good," Jack mutters and starts for the door.

"Just a moment, please." Ignoring the rolled eyes, she continues: "I'll arrange with the Mess Sergeant so that your diet covers your energy demands properly –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"- as well as resupplies the nutrients and minerals which you have lost due to the cryogenic stasis. I'll also give you the medication –"

"For fuck's sake, I'm  _fine_! I don't need anything from you and I won't be taking any drugs!"

"Jack. You are in pain –"

A derisive snort. "The fuck you can stop pretending to be nice, I'm not buying it!"

That pushes too far. "I'm a  _doctor_ ," she says firmly.

The beautifully carved lips twist in a repulsive grimace. "Those were  _doctors_  who did this to me," Jack indicates the scars on her neck and storms out of the medbay.

"Not everyone who practices medicine is a doctor," Chakwas says to the empty air, and after a moment, sits down heavily in her chair. Not the last time, she regrets the loss of her selection of fine brandies, in a moment like this, a sip would be welcome. Glancing at the screen with the scan results, she sighs. Adding up what Shepard has told her, the  _doctors_  were most certainly Cerberus, and she has no doubt that he will arrive at the conclusion, as well.

_This won't be good._

She remembers all too well how Shepard seethed with controlled anger, back then on the first  _Normandy_ , when he returned from a mission with a  _doctor_  in handcuffs and a deranged, scarred man in tow, who turned out to be a living ghost from the past. She remembers Shepard's medical records from the time post-Akuze, the extensive plastic surgeries as well as the period off duty due to the PTSD.

She can see the self-same anger now, carefully checked and bottled, and she knows that the crimes committed on Jack will be added to the old score, no matter what his opinion of her might be.


	6. Scores Old and New

_Cerberus_.

Had he  _known_  right after Akuze, had he been able to put a name to the culprit, it would have eaten him alive, just like it did Toombs.

Even now, it strains his self-control to the limits. He plays the Cerberus lapdog, he flies the Cerberus ship, he talks and listens to his Cerberus crew, eats the Cerberus food, sleeps in Cerberus bed, breathes Cerberus air – and that all under the constant supervision of Cerberus eyes and ears.

Even talking to Joker or Chakwas or Garrus brings only a temporary relief and leaves a bitter aftertaste, as they are  _all_  here because of _Cerberus_ , trapped in the same web of loyalty to the cause like himself – or even worse, trapped by the loyalty to  _him_.

Curiously, it is the new people on the team whom he finds easiest to talk to – or perhaps, logically, as they provide the biggest challenge, the biggest  _distraction_ : Zaeed, Kasumi, Mordin… the most recent addition, Jack.

 _Jack_.  _It would have eaten me alive, just like it did her._

He presumed that getting her talk about herself would be the most difficult but he was quickly proved wrong – the bitterness, the anger, the  _hatred_  that she is brimming over with are more than willing to find an outlet. He listens to her raving about revenge on Cerberus, not sure what makes him more horrified – what was done to her, or what has become of her – and all he can see is the image of a little girl, tied to a laboratory table, waiting to be dissected like a scared bunny.

Only later, when he is lying in his bed, his hand, hidden from sight under the blanket, folds the fingers into the shape of a gun.

With the image of the Illusive Man's smug little smile before his eyes, he slowly pulls the trigger.


	7. Hooks Attached

She thought that she would be required to do her share of killing, now and then, and study the files meanwhile, so that she could find her way out of the shit as soon as she can.

Instead, the fucking bastard keeps her occupied.

Working out in the gym makes sense; she did get weak in prison and cryo, and being weak is what she definitely cannot afford. What totally pisses her off, though, is the training. They spar in the cargo bay, they shoot in low and high gravity, with and without hardsuits, they defend and attack positions in simulated fights.

Sometimes she’s on her own, sometimes paired with someone – and each and every time, while enjoying the adrenaline, she is more and more pissed, until she finds herself an outlet.

“Fuck, not again!”

Jack, a bit out of breath and still gloating with satisfaction, rolls her eyes at Shepard’s fretting. “Yeah, yeah, was off the target, sorry.”

He exhales before he dismisses everyone else and turns back to her. “ _Teamwork_. Which part of it is so hard to understand?”

“Don’t get so fucking excited, Shepard, I’m not stupid.”

“Then stop acting as if you were! I know that Lawson is annoying like hell, but in a fight, she’s a killing machine. You cover her back, she covers yours, or the fuckers get you _both_ – or worse, they get someone else!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jack mutters. “Bad Jack won’t send the Cerberus bitch flying again.”

“ _Much_ appreciated.”

That’s when her moment comes. She smiles sweetly. “Don’t say you didn’t enjoy seeing the cheerleader flying arse-first.”

His exasperated sigh makes her laugh so much that her sides hurt.


	8. All There Is To It

The familiar excitement is pulsing in her veins: adrenaline and endorphins, the thrill of the kill, the way she has been trained.

_Exertion and pain do not matter._

Only, this is taking too long: the fucking mercs are putting up a resistance and she is getting pissed with the rockets exploding all around, blinding and deafening her. Cursing, she straightens to shockwave the two most annoying Blue Suns heavy but afterwards dives for cover a moment too late. She gets a direct hit and her barrier fades; disoriented, she stumbles, the gun falls from her fingers.

_Fuck._

Muffled like through a blanket, she hears Shepard yell, "Cover me!", and has only the time to think that it's  _her_ , not the fucker, who needs cover, but then he is right there, and it is his barrier that takes the next hit while the two of them roll into safety.

"Stay put," he orders, as if she could do more than lie and gasp after he has rolled over her in that fucking armour of his, but when he starts fussing with diagnostics on his omnitool, she smacks his hand aside.

"I'm alright," she snarls, "just take off that fucking plating the next time you want to tumble."

She doesn't see his expression through the visor but he nods and heads for the next cover while the Blue Suns' fire is notably weaker, and she cannot miss how the armour highlights his figure.

 _And the merc's and the turian's and even the Cerberus boy's. Next time I guess I'll find the_ salarian _hot, as well._

It's just the hots she always gets in the fight due to the Cerberus conditioning, nothing special.

Tearing open an energy drink, she wipes her bleeding nose and summons the dark energy to smash another mercenary.

_Adrenaline and endorphins. Kill or be killed._

She is an asset to the team. She won't be killed as long as that is true, there's no more to Shepard's boyscouting than that. He's done it for others as well, after all.

 _Kill, kill, kill_. There's no more to it than that, that's what everyone has always wanted.


	9. All the Measures

"Fucking. No. Way!"

The Cerberus boy Jacob facepalms and boyscout Shepard looks much like he wants to, as well. "Of course you could have a standard issue hardsuit, if only, as you pointed out, you weren't keeping frying those electronic circuits with your biotics. That's why you're getting a non-standard, and if I am to spend thousands of credits on the best blend of asari and quarian technology, I want to make sure it damned  _fits._  To make it fit, we need to –"

"– get me stripped and measure my cunt!" Baring her teeth, Jack plants her hands on her hips. "So why don't you just say it, huh, Shepard? You want to see my cunt?"

The fucking bastard doesn't even bat a lash. "Point taken. If I ever want to see your cunt, I just say so. Now, could we proceed with the measurements? I presume you wouldn't want Lawson around but the scan is easy to operate. I'll arrange Doctor Chakwas –"

The sight of him getting flushed and gaping in the middle of the sentence is totally worth it as she rips off her T-shirt and starts peeling off the pants.

Jacob's dark skin turns a few shades darker. "I, uh, will fetch some spare parts," he stutters and leaves so quickly as if hell was to break lose.

Shepard, however, does none of the kind. Before she is done with the panties, he looks quite normal again, and he nods towards the console. "Stand over there with your legs apart."

Annoyed, she obeys, and when the procedure ends, she comes to stand right in front of him. "So? You liked what you saw?"

"Nice tattoos there," he replies absent-mindedly, studying the parameters. "That's all, thank you."

"That's not about 'nice', idiot," she growls, fuming. She shambles on her clothes, but only when storming through the corridor she realizes that she failed to notice whether he was hiding his crotch behind the console deliberately or not.


	10. Made by Cerberus, Inc.

Requesting the Cerberus files just for the sake of riling Lawson was a mistake; he's had enough on his plate even without reviving the old nightmares. Yet, he delves into the files with masochistic fascination: it's not like he'd be ever able to forget, anyway. Even without the files, the thoughts of Akuze are never far these days, and no matter how much he tries to rationalize his position, the old anger keeps welling within. There are moments when the very sight of the Cerberus logo nearly drives him over the edge; there are moments when he talks to his oh-so-honest in their conviction crew and wonders how far  _they_  might be willing to go to achieve their goals. The hero worship in their eyes makes it all just worse: he cannot slip, not once, cannot let them know, he has to keep the night of gunfire and mortal screams all to himself.

Sometimes, he feels as if a wall that was holding all memories back burst through: of late, he finds himself returning in his thoughts further and further into the past, pre-Akuze.

And weird as it is, he finds himself remembering fondly, with the pain somewhat dulled while the faces and scenes stand out more clearly against the flow of time. The service on the SSV  _Warsaw_ , the pranks with Toshio and Yelena, the dear old pals…

Toshio with his impish grin, and Yelochka of big brown eyes, her biotic flares never far and always ready for mischief.

The memories of his old biotic flame inevitably steer his thoughts towards the only biotic currently present and Shepard wonders if just a single once in her life, Jack has ever used her powers for anything else but killing.

Then, with a chuckle, he remembers the incident with Lawson during a training session:  _a totally Yela thing to do_.

_Carefully, Shepard. She is no Yela, she is a killer, brought to perfection by Cerberus –_

He inhales sharply, digging his nails into his palms. He looks into the mirror and his artificial eyes look back as he finishes the thought:

_\- just like myself._

 


	11. A  Blues in Black and Blue

The thing looks black, almost like leather, but when Jack activates the energy source, it gains sheen of deep petroleum blue. It hugs her form tightly but doesn't restrain her in the least – in fact, she barely feels it, as if it was just second skin, and she finally comes to understand why Shepard and Taylor rolled their eyes when talking about standard issue hardsuits.

"You like it?"

"Fuck, yeah," she mutters absent-mindedly, turning and twisting to get a better glimpse of herself. Little wonder those blue bitches love their commando leathers so much…

The exchange of grins between the two men snaps her out of the reverie. She narrows her eyes. "What'ye laughing at, you two dickheads?"

The Cerberus boy looks as if he has downed something nasty but Shepard merely cocks his head. "Looks like you could use a mirror," he assesses. "Since we don't have one –" Pointing his omnitool, he activates visualisation, and Jack can finally appreciate how fucking awesome the thing looks on her, the clear outlines, the blue sheen; unmarred, unscarred surface…untattooed…

"You can customize the looks further if you wish," Taylor tries to make up for his blunder, "in this quality class, the chameleon module goes without saying…"

"No, it's…" She jerks her head to drive away the inappropriate thought how pristine she looks in it: damn, it's tight, outlining tits and arse, so how come she's getting those weird feels? Resorting to aggression, the way she always does when unable to deal with the knot of her emotions, she snorts: "Maybe later. It's kinda boring, you know. But I'll bother only after I make sure this shit won't get fried just like the ones I had before."

"It won't. It's designed for asari matriarchs. Your biotics are impressive for a human but not surpassing theirs."

Under her scowl, Taylor almost makes a step back but is saved by Shepard's intervention: "Well, if it turns out that you can heat up more than the asari, we'll simply get you a better model. I'm sure that the Illusive Man won't mind flushing some more credits down the toilet."

"Some more hundreds thousands credits," Taylor mutters and Jack sneers at that, her mood immediately improved. If she could make away with the data and this baby of a hardsuit…

"To the Illusive Man's endless credit chit," she imitates a toast. Before I rip his head off and stuff it up his arse. Slowly. "So, guys, now that I have a fancy suit, how 'bout some gun to go with, huh?"

Shepard produces a rather self-confident smile and reaches for something lying on the workbench. "An M-6 Carnifex. Customized specifically for your hand. All you need now is some testing ground."

She laughs, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. She nods at him with the gun. "Love this attitude of yours. In the end, we'll get on splendidly, you'll see."

Somehow, she sounds less sarcastic than she intended.


	12. The Right Person for the Job

Behind the glass pane, floating in some liquid, the krogan seems oblivious of his surrounding.

Slowly, she reaches her hand, touching the cold, smooth surface, wondering what might feel, or think, or know.

_Would it have been better if Cerberus just kept me in the tank and kicked me out one day? Would it –"_

When the door hisses behind her, she turns, startled, as if she had done a thing.

Of course, it's Shepard, who else.

She plants her hands in her sides. "You spying on me or what?"

"'Was looking for you, actually," he retorts, unperturbed, "need a hand."

 _Huh?_ "What with?"

He jerks his head towards the krogan in the tank. "I'm going to wake him. There's no telling what mental shape he would be in, and I don't want a berserk krogan of unknown potential on my hands without a backup. If need be, you paint the wall with him, but only on my signal, is that clear?"

She snorts. "You think I'm stupid? You want me to splash him, fine, you want to play a hero, your problem."

He nods, satisfied. "Attagirl."

She takes her position by the door and, unnoticed, boredly observes how the krogan is totally oblivious of the gun pointed at his belly until Shepard tells him about it. She might as well stand there with a thumb in her arse, big difference.

As they leave, and Shepard is rubbing his neck and shoulders, she asks: "Why didn't you rather take the cheerleader along? Or the boy Jacob? They'd piss their pants if you asked them to assist."

He doesn't look at her. "They're too engaged. They would freak out that I might get killed, and interfere. That's what happened the last time I had to deal with an angry krogan."

 _Whereas I don't give a fuck. Right. That's the way it should be._ "What happened to the krogan?"

He sighs. "Got shot in the back and coup-de-graced before I could say a word."

"Better to shoot  _them_  in the back before they shoot  _you._ "

The look he gives her, as if he might have a problem with shooting someone in the back, makes her feel safer on the ship, by approximately one thousandth point.


	13. Knocked Out

The punching bag yields to yet another blow, the impact straining uncomfortably the barely healed shoulder but Shepard ignores it: the shoulder will work tomorrow, and he has to sleep.

Troubled sleep has always been an issue, and of late, he has been dreaming excessively: of the Prothean destruction, the long cold fall with his lungs burning, and inevitably, the old nightmares of Akuze. He is not sure whether it's a result of some brain trauma, or imperfect personality reconstruction, or simply a logical outcome of the shit he's been thrown into, he just knows that there is not a single soul on the whole Normandy whom he can tell, because it would be as if he was confiding to the Illusive Man himself. And so he spars and runs on the treadmill and does his best to work himself to physical exhaustion in the evenings, to grab a few hours of sleep as soon as his head touches the pillow.

In daytime, he is looking for inconspicuous ways to unwind, constantly feeling how close he is to losing a grip of himself. The orderly structure of the military life might have been of help but with the Cerberus imitation, there is a void constantly crumbling his walls. At times, he feels as if gyrating back towards the younger, more careless Connor Shepard of the pre-Akuze days… at times, he realizes that he no longer gives a fuck to things which used to matter.

On such occasions, he finds relief in talking to the single person who doesn't give a fuck to anything – the single person who doesn't want or expect anything from him, and the freedom of being just  _himself_  in her presence is what he needs to be able to carry on.

It works fine only so long until he realizes how much it actually irritates him that Jack wants or expects nothing from him – or that she keeps expecting him to stab her in the back, just like everyone else has in her life. It is a painful realisation, as well as the one he knew all along: the freedom was just an illusion.

So, working out it is again and the punching bag receives yet another well-aimed blow… but Shepard feels as if it's him who is losing.


	14. Poster Boy Reexamined

_The First Human Spectre_.  _A Great Leap For Humankind_.  _Commander Shepard: Faster, Higher, Stronger_.  _Per Asperam ad Astram: The Hero of the Citadel_. And so on. Tons of Shepard's photos and vids: in the navy blues, in the fatigues, in the N7 armour, looking crisp and grim and professional.

_The fucking PR bullshit._

Practically all the photos show Shepard half-face because neither full face nor his profile are exactly those of a poster boy, and from the right because that big scar he used to have on the left cheek was fucking  _not likeable_.

Jack sneers, imagining the reporters' frustration as they were trying to get the angle right to make Shepard look more appealing, and even so he was nothing to phone home about.  _Might have gone better if they got a shot of him in the nude but with military guys, good musculature is not exactly hard to come by, you can shit twelve such in a dozen._

Snorting, she clears the data and refines the search: to figure out the man, she needs to follow those few leads she has obtained after sifting through all that exalted crap. In a few seconds, she sits back, satisfied.

In this vid, Shepard is younger; the scar is an ugly red against his pale face and his eyes are sunk in deep shadows. He speaks very little while the woman by his side –  _shit, that's his_ mother _?_ – fends off the reporters.

Jack's finger slides over the related searches.

_A Price of Freedom. A Sole Survivor. The Massacre of Akuze: Coincidence, or Negligence? An Ordeal of Survival. A Nightmare of Akuze: A Marine Contingent Exterminated Within Hours._

_So this is it_.

She could feel from the very beginning that he hated the fuckers, though she never knew why and didn't want to seem interested. The Cerberus connection is never mentioned in any of the articles, but by pure instinct born of hatred, she knows that it was  _them_ , that this is  _it_ , that he is one of the many whose lives the scum messed.

Sighing, Jack looks up from the omnitool.  _The fact that he hates Cerberus the same as I do doesn't mean that we are on the same side… or that he can, or should, be trusted. No one can. Not even…_

She bites her lip. A nagging thought tells her that Shepard cared about his team  _then_  and he seems to be caring  _now_ , and she is unsure what to make out of it for her safety. She has never been anyone's team before... so perhaps he might not betray her to Cerberus even if he had a chance.

But such hopes are dangerous to nourish, that she has learned the hard way.

* * *

_**A/N** : If you want to take a look at Connor Shepard, you can browse my ME folder on the deviantArt, but be warned: I'm no better than the Alliance reporters, so there are only the good shots :P_

_\- Oh, and yes, the interview that Jack found is the one right after Shepard's release from hospital in_   **Unmemorabilia**   **4**.


	15. Vandalism, Epic

"You did  _what_?"

He knows he shouldn't laugh, there's nothing laughable about her long track of criminal record, but, universe help him, this one is hilarious... _Toshio and Yela would have paled with envy_.

And Jack looks at him, her teeth shining in a  _smile_ , not a sneer, for once. "I made a fucking new impact crater," she repeats. "I sure didn't know the hanar loved that moon of theirs so much… Not that I give a fuck, but, hey, here you go, vandalism on the universe's scale."

Gosh, he shouldn't, shouldn't laugh at that, but there has been very little to laugh at of late, and Garrus is only slowly recuperating from the death of his team, his dry humour almost gone. And so Shepard laughs with Jack, and sees her eyes sparkle, and realizes how young she actually is…

Young and slender, of elegant, feline moves, and for once, youthful, laughing for real instead of producing the usual flow of spite and bitterness.

That laughter gives him a strange warm feeling, somewhere inside.

She leans back, taking a more relaxed position – the first time she ever does so. "So, now your turn, Shepard. Don't tell me that you've always been such a fucking boyscout and never had any fun."

He hesitates, because there are certainly moments which he doesn't want to confide to  _anyone_  but she is right, he ought to reciprocate. So, he gives her a slightly polished version of some events of his early career, and she laughs so hard that her eyes get teary.

"You did  _what_?" she repeats, wiping her eyes, and so he provides details, to hear her laugh some more.

In a moment like this, he might almost see the girl instead of a jaded criminal, but he feels too good, for once, to dwell on  _might-have-been_  or  _should_  and  _shouldn't,_ and enjoys the moment of illusion while he can.

* * *

_**A/N** : No, he's not telling her the incident of the New Year's Eve. Ever._


	16. A Way of Handling

Shepard slowly exhales: the young tank-bred krogan can be a true challenge to patience.  _And not just him_. "Yes, Grunt? What is it?"  _This time?_

"The female. Jack. She is a good warrior but her behaviour is baffling. Does she want to breed with me?"

_Ah. That._

As soon as she became more comfortable on the team, which took no more than a couple of fights, both simulated and real, Jack has started with sexual innuendo towards the males – most of it directed at himself and Massani and even the aliens, whereas Taylor barely got a honourable mention now and then. Remembering Garrus' expression the first time he realized what the talk of popping thermal clips actually meant, Shepard still nearly bends over with laughter – Mordin handled his adressation way more gracefully, while Grunt simply seemed oblivious.

 _A wrong estimate, it seems_.

"I must know, Battlemaster," Grunt insists now. "Is she offering to breed with me as a recognition of my battle prowess? Only the worthy ones are allowed to breed. But tank memories speak only of the asari capable of cross-species breeding."

"That is true. But as for non-breeding purposes, anything is possible, I guess."

"Har. Mating not for breeding? Not such an honour. Perhaps merely a recognition without a true intent at fulfilling."

 _More true than you know, and definitely not for the reason that you think, either._  "I presume that your assessment is mostly correct. It was certainly not meant as an invitation to sex."  _Though with Jack, one can never be sure_.

Another deep rumble. "I thought so. I'm not stupid. But then I have another question, Battlemaster. She is your species, so with you, is she only acknowledging your worth, as well, or does she truly intend to mate with you?"

Carefully keeping his face under control, Shepard briefly wonders whether the prospect is scary, or actually very appealing. "That is up to her to decide."

The krogan harrumphs in satisfaction: such an answer fits with his tank-learned worldview. Then, however,  _another_  question starts forming behind his reptilian forehead. His eyes narrow.

Shepard didn't get where he is by waiting to be pinned down. He shifts his stance to appear frightening by krogan standards. "It is not your place to ask your Battlemaster about his mating preferences, Grunt."

He maintains the posture until Grunt signals deference, and only then allows himself to ponder the prospect before firmly putting it aside.  _Things are messed enough as they are. No need to contribute with further personal issues._

Though he does have to admit that under other circumstances, he might be inclined towards finding the idea of…  _mating_  with Jack… appealing.


	17. All That Remains

That thing before her which explodes in a splash of dark ichor used to be female, and the likes of her keep coming in new and new waves, their empty shells intent only on clawing at flesh while their eyes glow with lifeless blue light.

They are all coming at her, men, women, children.

Even through the haze of adrenaline and endorphins, Jack feels horror coiling deep within, the echoes of her screams from the past reverberating in the guttural growls of what used to be living people.

_This is… this is…_

"This is almost as bad as what Cerberus did to me," she mutters for herself, not realizing that she is speaking aloud until Shepard briefly turns to her as they fight their way through the colony.

"You  _live_ ," he retorts and then moves forward, to the cover of the next living unit, empty like those before, with the personal possessions abandoned as the life was snatched away.

Looking at the erratic movements of the husks, driven by a force other than their will, she feels her throat tighten. "They don't have memories," she says aloud in a thin voice, as if to convince herself.

Wiping the gore from her visor, she follows Shepard in his blue and black armour. Right behind the corner, there is another group of immobilized colonists, and a set of the alien pods waiting for the helpless victims, to be transferred for… for…

She knows all damn too well that Shepard is right and that this is  _worse_.

It is worse… and it has to be stopped. Somehow. Anyhow.  _Now_.


	18. The Ways of Fight

" _Your form is fragile. I will destroy you."_

"See who's talking here!" The glowing Collector is shredded by Jack's biotic field and the one next to it starts to glow,  _again_.

" _You will know pain."_

"Yeah, big news, fucker, but you first! Here goes something to shut you up!"

" _Your destruction is…"_

"Shut the fuck up!"

Unlike Jack, Shepard doesn't let his annoyance with the Reaper trashtalk show. With precise, efficient moves, he reloads another thermal clip and aims a shot by shot, never letting himself be pinned or cornered.

The last glowing Collector turns to ashes under their concentrated attack. In the momentary respite, Shepard takes the luxury to nod to Jack with his gun: "Killing those bastards wouldn't be half as annoying if they shut up for at least a second, right?"

He can see her grin through her gory visor. "You bet! But I don't think that our form is destruction is  _quite_  that fucking primitive!"

"Yeah, but it never hurts to pick up some new tricks on the roads." He snatches the nearest Collector's gun: it's unexpectedly heavy but the controls are easy to operate and the gun emits that destructive beam which he has seen today  _ad nauseam_. And since they cannot proceed very fast, anyway… "Hey, Grunt, Massani, Taylor, the chief bugger said we ain't got enough fire power – go get yourself these  _upgrades_."

Unasked, Jack also picks one, only to drop it again with a curse. "Ugh, a heavy bitch. – But I do love the way you think, Shepard, we'll kick their arses 'cause we're a fucking good team!"

 _A team_. He'd never have expected her to say so. Suddenly, their prospects seem somewhat brighter for that.


	19. Innovative

The fucking bug. Just. Won't. Die.

What's worse, it's hot on Shepard's fucking heels. It's not awfully fast but Shepard is nowhere next to his usual speed, either, having taken some shots – they all have, as the defence of those fucking AAA towers, with the Collector forces swarming in from all sides, is a fucking  _nightmare._

Jack rips through a group of incoming husks and sends another shockwave to clear Shepard's retreat route. She sniffs, irritated: while the hardsuit's systems deal with sweat, she can't wipe her nose, bleeding from exertion of her biotics, and cannot remove the helmet because of the seeker swarms.

_If I could at least smash the fucker..._

But the monstrous flying bug has equally monstrous shields, and her biotics is put to better use cleaning the area of the Collectors and husks.

_You just have to outrun it, boyscout, while the guys keep whittling it down with heavy guns._

_Fucking tough ugly bastard._

Then, however, as its energy beam hits the heap of crates next to Shepard, something unexpectedly explodes in there. " _Shepard!_ " she can hear several voices yell simultaneously on the comm, as he remains lying in the open, stunned and exposed – not dead, she can see him move faintly, but too far from any help or cover.

She can hear Grunt roar, as he and Taylor jump out of their respective covers, trying to detract the bug thing, firing at it like mad from the powerful Collector guns. Its shields finally fade away – fat good it does, though, as the bug simply ignores the damage, intent on roasting Shepard alive at any cost, and so she casts a barrier, the strongest she can, at such a distance –

The fucking  _thing_  evaporates it with a single blast and Shepard rolls away, but too slowly and she hears him scream.

_Fuck…_

There is but one other thing that she can do.

As the bug thing aims its blast to fry Shepard for good, she  _pulls_  with all her might.

The way the bug's carapace opens as the joint fire of the whole squad finally obliterates it from the world, looks much like a dropped jaw.

Of course, she has overdone it, and Shepard hits the wall with a thud and a groan as he slumps down, but before she can get to him, he is slowly rising, feeling his ribs. She helps him to remove the partly molten helmet and he spits out some blood, but then he grins at her. "Innovative… use. Can't say I… don't appreciate the flight."

"Of course you do, dumbass," she says, feeling all of a sudden like crying. "Of course you do."


	20. The Ways of the World

_Well, that much for gratitude. Saving half the fucking colony is not enough_.

And, the Alliance bitch yelling at Shepard because of the cooperation with Cerberus really tops it all. Jack's hands just itch to deliver a good haymaker but before she can act on it, Shepard shuts the bitch up alright – " _getting wrexed", huh?_ – and not a moment too soon. With all the Cerberus talk, Jack actually expects the colonists to stop counting their losses and attack  _them_  instead.

 _Hey, at least the retreat to the shuttle might have been a bit more_ fun _._

Jack bares her teeth. Despite the countless energy drinks and protein bars which she has downed, she feels totally depleted but something in the way Shepard limps ahead still makes her want to blow something yet again.  _Many_  somethings, in fact.

All of a sudden, he stops, and she can see him fumble with the medigel injector once again. "Garrus…" he says in a tense voice, "I need a shoulder…"

The turian, scorched and gored like every single one of them, quickly makes to Shepard's side, right past the Cerberus boy Jacob who looks perfectly willing to lend a hand, if only asked, but steps back as he gets the message.

Others are more thick-headed.

As soon as they reach the shuttle, with Garrus supporting Shepard and basically carrying him inside, the Cerberus bitch grabs the medkit and apparently intends to save the day.

_Like hell._

Jack steps in her way so quickly that they nearly knock their noses, and grabs the kit from her hand. "You've got some work here, Doc," she tosses it to Mordin, who has just entered the shuttle.

The cheerleader looks like she's about to throw a hissy fit but, to Jack's disappointment, turns on her heel and goes to sit next to the pilot's chair instead.

As they take off, Jack glimpses Shepard's face over Garrus' shoulder, and she is almost sure that he mouthed at her a 'thank you'.


	21. A Debt Unpaid

Being the only whose state requires an overnight stay in the medbay due to extensive blood loss definitely sucks: Shepard is confined to bed with next to no distraction, and Chakwas gnarled at him so badly that he had no other choice but comply. When he hears the door open, he thinks that it's her, about to give him a Talk for finding him shuffling with a PDA instead of sleeping.

The person entering, though, is  _Jack_.

He cannot recall her visiting any part of the ship voluntarily before.

"Hey," she says, rather uncertainly as she stalks over to his bed. "You still look a bit... fried," she indicates the burns on his right cheek and shoulder, symmetrically with where the scars of Akuze used to be on the left side.

"Had worse, but I guess I'd be fried completely if not for you. I don't think I've thanked you properly for that yet, have I?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess that makes us even, though it's not like I'm keeping scores…" A nervous gesture. "But, hey, I wanted to tell you… it's… fuck, you were right and the Alliance bitch was wrong… uh, that friend of yours, I mean." She runs her hands over her scalp. "Fuck, I'd never thought I'd be saying this… if Cerberus is what it takes to stop the Collectors, then Cerberus it is and fuck the bastards later, and if she doesn't see it, she needs to get her head out of her arse."

Jack is standing there, breathing hard but her eyes do not flinch, and she probably doesn't realize that she has just twisted the blade in the wound. It is not her fault, though, and if not for Ash, he would have been high-fiving for hearing her say this, and so he musters an answer: "Thank you, Jack. It means a lot to me."

He's underestimated her. "You still look like someone kicked your puppy."

"Ash is a friend, we've been through a lot. I guess I hoped for more… trust. And what she said…" his voice trails off as he feels his bile rise again.

"She has shit between her ears," Jack offers helpfully.

He  _hates_  what he is going to say. "In a way, she was right. It's not me any more… Cerberus changed me." Seeing her frown, uncomprehending, he says slowly: "They didn't only reconstruct me, they  _rebuilt_  me. I'm faster, stronger… I can take more and I heal more quickly. I… I probably wouldn't have made it today if not for their improvements."

Slowly, very slowly, Jack walks over to his bed and with a slight hesitation, sits on its edge. "It sucks," she says softly, "knowing that you are what you are owing to  _them_." Her eyes gain a distant, pained look for a moment, before they grow hard again and she gives him a feral grin. "The only thing you can do is to carve  _thank you_  into the bullet that you will put through their fucking head. At least that's what I keep telling myself."


	22. The Ways of Leadership

" _And, Shepard, by the way, how did you make Cerberus get you a uniform without that fucking logo?"_

" _They didn't. I did."_

" _What, you picked up tailoring?"_

" _De-tailoring."_

" _De-Lawsoning would be even better."_

" _Well, in a way, I did just that. – You know, the first time I opened the closet in my cabin and found out that every single piece was logoed, I was pretty pissed. I had agreed to work with them, not become one of them, so I wanted to send a message. Not wearing a uniform would be bad for the morals of the crew, though. So, I placed a call with Lawson and complained that my quarters lacked a manicure set. Turned out, there was none spare to be had and I insisted that I absolutely needed one immediately, so she lent me hers. – Hey, don't choke yourself, you want to hear the rest of it, right? – So, when I was done with the job – and it took me a couple of hours, all those fucking tiny stitches on every single item – I returned it with polite thanks, and at first she failed to notice what I had done. She realized only the next day, and turned red like a pomegranate."_

" _Pfft. Lame. Gardner nearly shitted his pants when I asked him for a knife."_

" _Must be that big friendly smile you're wearing. Loved those holes you made on your shoulders, though. Nice symmetry."_

Listening to the 28-nC6 the bug from the engineering, Miranda Lawson is red like a pomegranate even now. She hates to be reminded of mistakes, especially if they are part of a greater-scale failure. She is unused to failures. She cannot fail.

She  _knew_  Shepard, or so she thought, from the two years spent reconstructing him. She read everything there was on him in the extensive Cerberus files. She knew his history, his psychological profile, his biology, his…

Apparently, to know does not equal to understand.

She  _knew_  of Akuze. She  _knew_  of his doggedness when put to a task. She assumed that his sense of duty is strong enough to overcome his grudge against Cerberus. She was not wrong in this, yet she was not right, either.

She never expected that he would work with them, commit himself to the task without holding anything back – and  _hate_  them with every fibre of his being.

 _As long as the mission succeeds_ , she rebukes herself,  _anything –_

Another burst of hearty laughter makes her grit her teeth.  _Anything… but…_

She never expected this buddy-buddying with Subject Zero, either. Commiserate, yes – but, the woman is a  _criminal._  A  _psycho_.  _And annoying like hell. And yet –_

With an aggressive dab of her finger she quits the transmission and snorts aloud. She doesn't  _understand_  people the way Shepard does, that's why he leads the mission instead of her. Yet, Mr Awesome apparently doesn't  _know_  when he is thinking with his dick.


	23. All It Takes, Or Not

"Massani is pissed with you all right," Jack remarks, sitting leisurely with her feet on a crate.

"That is mutual," Shepard growls; the Zorya incident still burning fresh in his mind. He still feels an itch in his hand to pull the trigger… or at least arrange for Zaeed to get one more scar, for symmetry's sake.

"You're such a fucking boy scout," Jack remarks with practically zero venom, but he can still hear the people dying in flames and fails to assess her tone correctly.

"I thought that  _you_ , of all people, would understand what it means to treat others like some trash that got in the way! Or, do you think, because you were harmed, it gives you some right to treat others like Cerberus treated you?!"

With a loud stomp, she puts her feet down and leans forward, baring her teeth. "Don't you  _dare_  to compare me to them! You have no fucking idea –"

"No fucking idea? Fifty men –  _fifty!_  – under my command died horribly because Cerberus fancied experimenting with thresher maws, so stop feeding me such bullshit! If you'd do the same as what Massani did to get your revenge, you'd be no better than them!"

Breathing hard, Shepard finds himself leaning forward, as well, looking at Jack, eye to eye in close proximity:  _never lose eye contact with a predator_.

The next moment, though, her eyes swerve and she pulls away abruptly. "Screw you, Shepard. Screw you," she mutters desperately. She folds her arms across her chest – no, she embraces herself. "You have no idea what it does to you when someone messes with you like that," she says, almost as if pleading.

Cautiously, he also straightens, feeling utterly spent. "I do. I had no idea that it was staged… I thought that it was somehow my fault, that I'd failed them. I nearly lost my mind."

Shepard sees her swallow hard and her eyes focus past him, her brows creasing. Alarmed suddenly that he might have screwed up irreparably, he raises his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry."

She barely moves her head in recognition, obviously lost in some inner struggle, and so he looks for a way to dissipate the tension. "Have you… found anything in those files yet?"

She jerks her shoulders but does deign to answer. "Some clues… nothing definite so far." A long pause. "You?"

"Nothing I didn't know before."

Her eyes briefly flicker over him and he takes a breath. "How about we… cross-reference?"

Jack turns her head sharply at that, narrowing her eyes, but then activates her omnitool. "Deal. I'll send you what I've found, and you send me your names. And now, get out. I need… just get out."

"Jack…"

"I said, piss off for now!"

"All right," he complies, fearing he might be pushing too far if he stayed, "see you tomorrow."

He is immensely relieved, receiving a small nod as a confirmation, and worried by how broken her voice had sounded.

* * *

**A/N:**   _Big thanks to Suilven for betaing and support!_


	24. The Way To Please A Girl

' _You seen this file?'_

Jack frowns at the omnitool:  _the fuck? Since when are we corresponding?_ Then it dawns on her and she smirks as she types: ' _What, afraid that you might get your ass fried if you turn up down here?'_

"Should I?" comes the answer almost immediately after she sends the message, from somewhere above. The catwalks resonate with Shepard's steps as he casually walks out from behind the corner.

Jack snorts but doesn't answer and basically ignores him until he descends.

"What, still pissed with me?" he asks, approaching.

"You bet," she growls, feeling her throat tighten. It cut deep, what he had said; deeper than she would have thought, and not because he'd said it but because it was the ugly fucking truth.

It doesn't mean that she has to concede the fucker a point just like that. "Watch your mouth next time."

"I'm not going to apologize for what I said," Shepard says gravely, and before she can tell him to shove his preaching, he adds, "but I'm sorry that I hurt you."

That leaves her gaping for a few moments, feeling suddenly on the verge of tears like she'd felt the previous day. "That's a fucking lame apology," she manages, forcing her voice to sound uninterested.

Shepard cocks his head. "Yeah, I know. There  _are_  a couple of things I never really mastered... So, are we good?"

 _Are we?_  Suddenly, she is busy gulping. She cannot recall when, or if, anyone has ever been sorry about hurting her.

And he'd said it twice, actually.

She springs up from her seat and strides to the opposite wall, kicking the crates on her way. "You're weird," she snaps over her shoulder.

"Been told worse things. How about I make some amends?"

"Huh?"

He folds his arms across his chest. "Our Cerberus friends have screwed up again and, guess what, they need someone to mop up. Care to join me?"

The sudden rush of adrenaline makes her feel slightly dizzy with anticipation; she can feel her lips drawing back to bare her teeth. "You bet!"

When Shepard reaches his hand out to her, she slaps hers against his palm; briefly, their hands grip each other.

* * *

_**A/N** : ... and thanks go to... Suilven!_


	25. Calls And Not Calls

The medbay door barely closes behind Chakwas, transporting the sedated David Archer, and as Shepard turns to leave, Jack starts at him with all the ferocity held back during the return trip from Aite: "You should have killed that fucking doctor, Shepard! Hell, you're a killing machine, don't tell me you've suddenly become soft!"

"I'm a  _soldier_ ," he replies, very calmly, "not a judge, and definitely not an executioner."

Jacks snorts derisively but Shepard continues, unperturbed. "Of course Archer deserves punishment, but it's  _David's_  call to decide it, not mine. And it's also David's right to hear his brother's apology for what he has done to him one day. Who am I to rob him of that?"

"The guy's mental!"

" _Mental?!_ " Within a split of a second, Shepard's voice switches into the tone that invariably makes the recipient jerk as if lashed. "Are you under the impression that he suffered  _less_  for that?"

"The fucking bastard  _deserves_  to die," she repeats heatedly, though with an underlying note of uncertainty.

Shepard doesn't relax his posture for an instant. "Not my call," he insists. "Nor yours."

Jack's eyes narrow. "And if it  _was_  your call? If he was one of those fuckers who set up Akuze? Don't tell me you'd let him go!"

He has to focus on his breathing for a moment but he had anticipated this question ever since they first set their eyes on David Archer, restrained as if on a cross, intubed all over, the tears constantly spilling from the eyes propped open – a sight that will undoubtedly haunt him at nights.

 _Both me and her_ , he remembers that sole sobbing gasp which Jack issued, and realizes that the hard line may not be the way - but he cannot admit the urge to tear Gavin Archer into small twitching pieces, either. "I did come across one of those, once, and had the choice to pull the trigger or not," he says softly, "and I decided not to. I wanted him dead, I did, but I didn't want to become a butcher for that. It wouldn't have brought anyone back. And, I did take his life, in a way, as he'll spend the rest of it among four walls."

"You're so fucking  _noble_ ," Jack mutters bitterly.

"Not sure if I'd know about noble. But I know I just didn't want to be like  _them_."

She stares at him a little longer and then, without a word, turns on her heel and leaves, for her hideout.

Shepard would much like to call after her, stop her, but he cannot. He cannot fight this fight for her.


	26. The Rites Of Passage

"This trip is much better than the previous, you know! Seems you're finally learning how to make a girl happy, Shepard!"

He growls something unintelligible in response and Jack laughs,  _pulling_  a klixen before it can charge and then ripping it into pieces with her biotics. When no more come, she yells at Grunt: "Hey, mash that button again!"

"Wait, we should –"

But Grunt, enjoying his Rite of Passage as much as Jack does, has already signalled for continuation.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a deep rumbling sound, something shakes the ground below them with a series of regular vibrations, resonating through their bodies. "What the fuck?" she frowns, confused.

In response, Shepard issues a profanity that makes even her pause a little; from what she can see, Grunt is gaping no less at the normally controlled Shepard.

And then she feels it too: another sense of vibration, approaching fast.

Finally, she connects the dots while she automatically fulfils Shepard's yelled orders.

_Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

_A thresher maw. That might be a fucking bit more than we asked for._

She bares her teeth:  _what does it matter?_  C _ome, fucker_!

The next moments are a chaos of shaking ground, soil bursting at unpredictable spots, green spittings eating at anything they touch, gunfire and Grunt's roaring, until she realizes, just as she is jumping over a crack in the platform, that the fucking thing is thrashing in death convulsions and spitting no more. At least she can get a better sight of it now: at the hard, scaly body with segmented limbs along the upper part, just under the oral cavity. "A fucking big bastard," she mutters to herself.

"Not really," comes the response just next to her. Shepard's helmet is turned away from her. "Barely twenty metres. They can be much bigger, and tougher."

He stares at the dying thresher a little longer, then abruptly turns and strides away so fast that Jack has to run to catch up. "Hey, but this is not your first since Akuze, is it?"

He pauses but for a second. "No. But this is the first time I had to kill it without an armed vehicle and preparation ahead."

With the adrenaline slowly fading from her system, Jack squirms. "But, we did kill it alright… hey, you pissed with me?"

His comm transmits a loud sigh. "I'm trying not to. But if you ever do such a thing again, your ass will be painfully sorry!"

"You wouldn't  _dare_ ," she growls, and he barks a laughter.

On their way back, Jack thinks sullenly that she has been without a good fuck too long, to find the idea of his hand on her ass so arousing.

* * *


	27. Side Effects

The first time, he doesn't connect the dots, and he is certainly not so insecure as to think that his subordinates trying to subdue laughter just as he enters might be laughing at him. The second and third time this happens, though, Shepard figures out it really has to do with him and gives the offenders a famous Shepard stare, after which they all turn red like a pomegranate and look a good foot shorter. He doesn't bother to ask, knowing that the joke or gossip or whatever it might be will out sooner or later, and to spare himself the time, he heads for the bridge.

His estimate is correct, of course.

"So, Commander, how was the krogan sexy time? You know, 'fuck like a krogan', or was it 'fight'?"

"Envy is a nasty character flaw, Joker," he replies while his mind is racing. Grunt is still on Tuchanka to learn more of, uh, his people's  _habits_ , Jack wouldn't share gossip with the crew, Kelly wouldn't dare to give away that she reads his messages, so there is but one option.

Once in the dubious privacy of his quarters, he asks: "EDI? Did you spread the information about that mating offer I received?"

"No, Commander. My protocols prevent me from such a breach of your privacy."

For a moment, he ponders whether AIs can lie, but then it dawns on him. "Did Operative Lawson spread the information?"

The already familiar millisecond hesitation. "My blocks prevent me –"

"Alright, alright, forget I asked."

"My matrices do not allow me to forget –"

Shepard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Never mind, EDI. Never mind."

Never mind. He knows how to handle the crew to make this incident fade or even use it for his benefit.

He underestimated, however, the effect on a scientific mind.

"Shepard. Must discuss. The compatibility of krogan and human tissues allow for 1,38 percent chance of transmitting an endemic Tuchanka STD. Need to check –"

Listening in half-horror, half-disbelief, Shepard realizes how lucky he is that Mordin has no idea about certain naughty thoughts crossing his mind in connection with a certain psychotic biotic. He dreads to think what the doctor might come up with should  _that_  be the case.

**A/N:** _Long live the Miracle of Sound!_


	28. So What This Is About

It sucks. It totally sucks.

Sure, Shepard the fucking boy scout took care that he was diplomatic, and she just snorted at that and told him to shove it. Yeah, she's a fucking escaped criminal. Yeah, her fucking face is life-size all over the Citadel space and beyond.

 _Bigger than life-size, actually,_  Kasumi informed her, chuckling,  _though they do not do justice to your eyes._

_Fuck, who cares._

But this is fucking  _Illium_ , after all, and its law enforcement no harder than the coin that backs it.

But, yeah, the fucking boy scout  _Spectre_  didn't want to  _draw attention_. 'Cause, they were just going to  _help out_  a friend, quietly. Which is why he took along only a small team. Which is why she had to stay on the fucking Normandy, totally bored.

_Well, at least the cheerleader didn't come along, either._

_But, boyo,_ quietly…

Jack was just on her way to the mess hall when the alert for the team sounded; Jacob nearly knocked her down as he sprinted from behind the corner.

And then, with all that fuss and the second team standing ready, they weren't even needed. Shepard, Kasumi and Mordin took out a rogue Spectre all on their own, though definitely not  _quietly._

Oh, not  _entirely_  on their own.

And Jack is pissed.

Shepard's blue  _friend_  is sitting opposite him in the mess hall, staring at him devotedly, and he is beaming like some fucking Christmas tree.

To Sergeant Gardner's apparent discomfort, Jack sits down just by his desk, to get a better view of the two while attacking a load of burgers like her mortal enemy. When the  _asari_  leaves, she brusquely moves over to the emptied seat. Shepard looks at her with an expression which she identifies as amusement only when she blurts out, perhaps really predictably: "Who the fuck  _is_  the blue bitch?"

"An old friend," he replies just as she  _knew_  he would.

She snorts, he chuckles, she says a couple of foul words and he finally indulges her in what it is all about. Only half-listening, Jack mentally rolls her eyes.  _'Friend', yeah. A wee bit more hot after you, and your clothes would burn off._

_Not that I'd mind the sight, though. Not at all._


	29. High and Low

"Ouch! Oooow…. Fuu…"

"Easy. Don't move. You've got a lump on your head the size of a krogan."

"…ck yourself, smartass," Jack mutters, carefully touching her head. Moving makes her dizzy and she presses her hand over her eyes. She is feeling slightly disoriented, as well – the whole place is a mess of broken glass and twisted metal and looks totally unfamiliar at first.  _There was the storm_ , she recalls _, and fighting among the lightnings. Then we got inside and swept our way through the ship, and then_ … "The fucking space  _troll_?"

"Dead as a dodo," Shepard replies with an uncharacteristic giggle.

Jack squints at him with effort. "You high or what?"

"High on medigel. The troll was tough. Chakwas will have my balls if she finds out how I've overdosed myself."

"I could put your balls to a better use," Jack blurts, and pauses to think what exactly she meant by that but her head hurts too much.

"You've got a concussion," Shepard informs her.

Jack frowns:  _tell me something I don't know myself, dumbass_. The frown brings her eyes to focus on the red stains on his blue-and-black hardsuit and the punctures in it. "You got shot."

"Told you he was tough. Fucking tough bastard. Liara had to bring down the ceiling on him while I kept him distracted. But it was totally worth it."

"Yeah?" Jack mutters, not particularly convinced. Her head  _hurts._  "Where are the others?"

"Helping Liara to mop up. The two of us invalids are taking a break."

"I'm no fucking… Helping  _what?_  Why are we still here, anyway?"

Shepard giggles again. "We've taken over. The whole ship – the whole Brokership."

"Stop giggling like an idiot and start making some fucking sense," Jack growls.

Shepard laughs some more but then he gasps and feels his side. "No-one knows the Shadow Broker is dead," he explains. "We have offed his closest subordinates, and the pawns have no idea what he looked like… so Liara stepped in his shoes."

"You're fucking kidding me?" But even as she says so, she realizes that she can hear the familiar soft voice coming from somewhere to her left – and there, in front of those screens –

 _Rising so fast was fucking stupid_ , she realizes as all the energy bars and drinks which she has downed are leaving the wrong way.

"…said you have a concussion," she hears through the throbbing in her ears and feels Shepard's hands saving her from falling face-first into her own vomit before she blacks out.

* * *

_**A/N:**... the usual thanks to the awesome Suilven... :-)_


	30. What's In A Dance

It's a bar; no wonder there is music. It doesn't come as a surprise that the others start to dance, at some point, while Shepard remains at the bar, deflecting the jibes. It is no wonder that some of them dance very well; it is solely his fault that he never imagined  _Jack_  dancing.

He could have expected it with the initial rough melody , full of raw drums: she matches the violence, step for step. But this is Illium where the asari culture permeates every single layer of life, and in a moment, the music changes, towards more intricate style, and Jack's movements change with it, towards graceful and full of life.

At that moment, Shepard is thoroughly sorry that he never even tried to master the skill of dancing, though, watching Jack, he knows that his best attempts would be hopelessly clumsy.

Watching her, absorbed in the music, and finally, finally just herself, he realizes that this is the first time that he can look at her without remorse of what could have been: seeing her not as a messed girl, a victim who could have become so much more, but as  _Jack_ , who, despite the circumstances, has become a person of her own and managed to carve a piece of life for herself.

And he feels guilty realizing how little he knows about this person who dances with grace that he can never hope for and whom he had never seen outside the box into which everyone and everything encased her; he watches and he is entirely absorbed. He has taken a risk, letting Jack off the Normandy to celebrate their victory over the Shadow Broker like everyone else, relying on Liara's newly gained influence to smooth things out if need be, and it was more than worth it.  _The way she is dancing_ ….

As if feeling his eyes on her, Jack makes for the bar and downs the content of a glass standing there. Then she turns to Shepard – her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed, beautiful. "That's a  _beer_? In a  _bar_? Ah, Shepard, don't be such a fucking boy scout! Come dance at least!" Her hand, grabbing his arm, emanates heat.

 _Someone has to stay sober in case shit happens,_  he might tell her.  _Someone has to stay on guard._

Or,  _I'm really, really no good at dancing, and I don't like making an idiot out of myself in public._

But he looks into her eyes and thinks,  _ah, screw it._

He only briefly wonders how far he might be willing to go, for that look again.

For  _her_.


	31. Insecure

Unbidden, she enters his dreams. The outcomes vary from deeply disturbing to almost serene, and sometimes embarrassing, as it happens – that is the least of his worries, though.

At first, he tries to be rational about it, blaming his interest on the pent-up sexual frustration: he hasn't been with anyone since before…  _before_ , and even then, pursuing Saren wasn't exactly the right time to be distracted by such issues. The military life kept things neat and organized; the familiar routine allowed him to pretend ignorance of Ashley's not-so-subtle hints.

Now once again, the lack of rules and hierachy on the second Normandy works to his detriment. Like some hormone-crazed teenager, he cannot get Jack out of his mind, and his past offers little in a way experience to build on.

Sure, there was Anne Custeaux on the Arcturus station, on more than just a couple of occasions in between the missions while he barely thought about her. There was the passionate tryst with Zora Brezinova, once they finished their N7 assignment, and then they went their separate ways. There were Terry and Shiraz Jane on the shoreleaves, and some more one-night stands whose names he doesn't recall, and that red-haired student, Ziye, whom he ran into after the basic N-training and they spent together a fortnight trekking along the Brazilian coast.

And, of course, there was the unrequited one: Yelena Denisova. The one and only ever entering his dreams, before.

Yelochka with her beautiful eyes and a mischievous smile, hiding uncertainty and vulnerability under a mask of self-confidence, just like Jack does.

Grasping at straws, he tells himself that this is just some unprocessed obsession with Yela, seeing Jack as her substitute… fat good it does, he realizes, as his heart jumps whenever he sees Jack turn and smile at him a little.

_Jack._

He hasn't felt so insecure since his teenage years, and it totally sucks. Commander Shepard and insecure don't go well together.

Off working out it is again.


	32. Intrigued

Shepard is wearing soft grey sweatpants and a sleeveless tanktop, and looks a bit surprised seeing her come over. Jack doesn't wait for an invitation to enter, 'cause, hell, he also comes down to her place as if it all fucking belonged to him. It does, but that's not the point, she's plain curious.

Besides, if blue bitches can call on him, so can she, right?

"Wow, a fancy cabin. You got a minute, Shepard?"

"Sure. Fix you a drink?"

"Yeah – that fucking  _fish_?"

"Yeah," he replies, unperturbed. "Cerberus thought it would be relaxing, and for once, I am inclined to agree – after I've installed an automatic feeder. Before, heh, not so much fun, the little buggers kept dying at an astonishing rate each time I forgot to feed them."

She chuckles and sits on the sofa and is about to remark on the relevance of dead fish and  _cold_  fish,  _cough cough_ , but then gets sidetracked again, seeing what he has been doing prior her arrival. "You assembling  _toyships_?"

This time, Shepard looks faintly offended. "Yeah. It's way better than just watching the fish. It helps clear your head because you have to concentrate on it."

"You mean, you  _concentrate_  on the manual," she says sweetly.

"I  _don't_  use –" he starts, a tad offended, but then he realizes she's having on him and goes to pour her whiskey. "And what do you like to do when you're not out and about mayheming?" he asks with his back to her.

"I, uh –" Inexplicably disconcerted, she slightly kicks the coffee table. "Hey, what everyone likes, I suppose – good drink, good dance… fun."

"Well, I kinda noticed that already."

For some reason, she feels like squirming. "I also read, when I have a chance. My education with Cerberus was sorta one-sided."

He hands her a glass and sits opposite. "And what do you like to read?"

"Currently, the Cerberus files." She jerks her head, irritated by the turn of the dialogue. "'Is why I'm here, actually – got what you asked." She activates her omnitool and sends over the data. "Not awfully much, I must warn you. Seems like those fuckers from Akuze had some nasty accidents. – You check for yourself."

Seeing his face harden as her presence is almost forgotten for a while, she feels a pang of remorse for cutting off the conversation so abruptly. Perhaps she could have told him about the things she reads.

Perhaps she might even have told him about the poems that she produces to keep her demons at bay.

She squirms a bit on the sofa. Perhaps, perhaps, she might tell him later, one day.


	33. Cracks

_Crash_.

The container flies away, knocking down another. Her corona is wildly flaring, blinding blue-white, her knuckles are bleeding.

 _Crash_.

She almost doesn't feel the pain.

"Jack! What are you doing?"

His Fucking Awesomeness Shepard comes running down the catwalks: the fucking spying AI has undoubtedly informed on her.

"Fuck off!" she yells.

"Or what?" he retorts. "Jack. Stop hurting yourself!"

Growling, she aims for another crate but he kicks it out of the way and places himself right before her. "Jack. You need to hit something, hit me, if it helps."

She is about to but in the middle of reaching she realizes that she actually doesn't want to. "Fuck you!" she yells at the top of her lungs and strides away from him. "Fuck you, Shepard!"

"What's wrong?" he asks softly. "Will you tell me?"

 _Everything,_  she thinks, feeling overwhelmed for an instant but the adrenaline carries her on. "What's  _wrong_?" she flings her arm towards the PDAs, scattered on the floor. "They had their stoogies in hospitals, in children's wards, neonatological units, everywhere! When they found kids who had been exposed to eezo in utero, they induced something that looked like a serious health problem and told the parents that the child died, that it was ugly and that they'd better not see, and those poor fucking idiots were even  _grateful_! You understand? They  _thanked_  those fucking bastard who had stolen their children! They  _thanked_  for having their children experimented on and butchered! Do you  _understand_?!"

"I do," he says so softly that she barely hears him over her own rapid breath.

"You do? Really? And you'd still have me not blow their fucking heads?" She is trembling, trembling with rage, ready to vent it if he but says a word, one wrong word.

Shepard must see it but he still makes a little step closer. "I'd only have you think before you pull the trigger. What it accomplishes for those children, for them… for  _you_. If it is really you who wants to pull the trigger, or that scared, hurt little girl. If you might not end up hurting yourself even more, like you do now. Because I don't want you hurt."

Unable to produce an answer to that, she stares at him, her hands throbbing.

He glances at the blood dripping on the floor. "I'll fetch some medigel. Or would you prefer to go to the medbay?"

She shakes her head, and as he quickly makes for the engineering medical station, she slumps on a crate. She lets him fuss with his omnitool, checking for fractures, and apply medigel. Watching his dark head bent over her hands, she says, dully: "I killed them. Those stolen kids. I had to fight and kill or be killed. I was punished if I didn't want to fight. I was rewarded with drugs, when I bashed someone's head. I was trained to like that. The fight and the killing."

Slowly, Shepard raises his head to meet her eyes.

"I still get hots in the fight even now," she says, watching the tiny darker spots in his brown irises, on that unnaturally smooth and glistening surface.

"I know you do," he replies. "Thanks for telling me why."

"Fuck your thanks. No clever words for that, boy scout?"

He doesn't shun. "No. Just please, don't hurt yourself anymore."

Fucking bastard, he has the last word again.


	34. Fitting

The slow stalking in the shadows, the rapid sprints across the spaces exposed to Haestrom's merciless sun. Its radiation causes their comms to crack with static, yet Jack's voice sounds all too clear as she muses:

"… and I'm telling you, this is not a ship but a fucking menagerie."

"Jack…"

"What? A blue kickass granny, a wheezy green assassin, a half-face turian, a one-eyed merc, an invisible thief, a one-horned salarian, a tank-bred krogan... How about we make it a show, huh? Going from planet to planet and get some coin for exhibiting our collection of freaks, now  _that_  would be a sight! We'd make a fortune in no time at all!"

"Wow, I feel  _so_  honoured being left out," Lawson mutters just aloud enough to be heard.

"A heartless bitch and brainless boy would be for an extra charge," comes the sweet retort.

"I didn't say a thing," Jacob protests, even as EDI interrupts: " _Enemy transmissions picked"_. The chit-chat comes to an abrupt end as they slide along the ancient structures to engage the geth.

When they are done, Jack kicks the remains of one of the platforms. "And now we're gonna pick your masked friend, right? Really, a menagerie. At least we can be sure you're not gonna recruit one of  _these_ , right?"

Shepard has to laugh at the idea. "I guess not. But what about the two of us – how do  _we_  fit in with the rest of our lovely group?"

"Why, we run the show, of course…" A glance over them both. "But, now that you mention it – a fucking inversion?"

_Blue and black, black and blue. Yin and yang._

He feels a tightening in his chest, and Jack looks at him, sensing a change in the mood. "Yeah, that might work," he says, trying to sound normal. "Let's get going."

The urge to take her by the waist, to pull her closer, is almost too strong to resist.


	35. The Single One

She cannot think.

She cannot sleep, cannot remain lying or seated, and so she spends the night pacing, subduing the maintenance light with her biotic flares, till the place feels as if closing in on her to suffocate her. There is nowhere she can go, though, on the ship full of Cerberus scum, nowhere, but a single place.

_Teltin. Pragia. Teltin. Pragia._

The names resonate in her head with each step as she strides towards Shepard's quarters.

Later, she cannot recall what exactly it was she told him; she knows that she must have been only half-coherent, the words spilling out in a flood; she knows that she was pacing violently while Shepard was sitting, unmoved, like a single solid object in universe. At some point, a glass occurred in her hand but she has no memory drinking from it. She has no memory of sitting down on the sofa, either, but that's where she wakes up, curled under a blanket. Shepard is nowhere around and the lights are turned down, and there is a tray loaded with food right on the coffee table. Her stomach rumbles and cramps at the smell: she cannot recall the last time she ate.

Only after she wolfs down half the content of the tray, she notices a message on the PDA next to it.

_Off to arrange that bomb you wanted. Working on it with Garrus in the armory if you need me. Get some more sleep, ETA at 18:10._

Huddling in the blanket, she slowly lies down. Five more hours, and the place of nightmares will cease to exist, Shepard will see to it.

Tears come unbidden as, the first time in years, she allows herself to hope or believe.


	36. The One Who Got Away

The eyes, glistening, dark, feverish; widened; zeal mixed with fear.

–  _fuckerfuckerfuckerdiediediedimustdie –_

"He needs to  _die_!"

_Trash that got in the way._

Those eyes, widened, the bloodlust mixed with fear, in the arena, the smell of blood, no mercy, just the kill, the thrill of it, the drugs in her stream, high for the thrill of the kill, to overcome fear.

–  _killkillkillsmashblastkillkillerasecease –_

"Jack."

The pasty face, the freckles; no, not freckles, scars, burns; unclean,  _marked_ …no escape, no escape from this, ever, not for anyone, still holed down here.

–  _nononononogoneerasednono –_

"Jack. You do not need to..."

–  _mustgomustgetawaymusterasenononokillkillblasterasemakegoaway –_

_What it accomplishes._

–  _go away, make it go away, makeitgoaway –_

"Jack."

–  _kill him, kill the bastard, he would bring it back, make it happen again, kill him, killkillkillblasthisbrainblastthewholeplaceblasterase –_

 _Be like_ them.

" _He_  is caught down here, not you. You  _can_  let go."

The water from the sky, blinding her, running down her face, the vegetation catching at her feet; she stumbles on into a free space.

–  _got away, I got away, away –_

"Jack."

 _He never did._ I _did._

_Aresh. His name is Aresh._

_I never knew the names of those I killed in the arena._

"Get out of here," she says in a tight voice, to the wreck of a man on the floor before her. Her face is covered in sweat even despite the hardsuit's cooling system. "And you get moving, Shepard, what are you waiting for? We have work to do here."

Not waiting for his reply, she heads through the familiar area to the place that used to be her only world and from which she has escaped for good.

* * *

_**A/N:** Thanks to Suilven and Letticiae for the feedback._


	37. From Among The Ruins

"This was my bed… I hated it, because they would strap me to it. I loved my table – I could read and write there, and I could hide under it. I could snuggle to it and talk to it, it was my one and only friend here…" Jack speaks more and more quickly, raising her voice, her hands flying around in wide gestures, shimmering blue with her biotic corona. "I loved a fucking  _table_! The one thing that never, ever hurt me was a  _table_ , do you understand, Shepard?"

He does, though he wishes he didn't. He wishes he had been here, to have been able to save the girl hiding under the table. But, he was not, and he doesn't know what to say now. The girl was drugged, caged, made to fight to the death, and the only thing that gave her some comfort was a piece of furniture.

"I loved a fucking  _table_!" Jack repeats, and her voice breaks into sobs. Then, with a scream, her aura flares: yanked from the floor, the table hits the shatterproof glass and crashes into smithereens. The chair follows, the bed, the locker, to the sound of an endless wailing scream and blindingly bright blue light, and Shepard wonders whether he should make away with the bomb ASAP, or rather stand and not draw attention.

Choking, Jack falls to her knees and her aura goes out; her body shakes in violent sobs as she stammers some incoherent words. Rising her hands, she struggles violently with her helmet; when Shepard helps her remove it, she gulps for air, choking.

It takes a while before her eyes focus again and she looks at him as if she saw him the first time in her life. As she gets up, she briefly leans on his shoulder.

"I broke the table," she mutters, looking dazedly around the room.

"You did. 'Had it coming," he replies, unsure what else to say or how.

A nod, aimed rather at the bomb than at him. "Set it off."

The display glows red and green under his touch. Jack's eyes drink in the lights before she turns away abruptly and heads for the exit. Worried, Shepard watches her staggering steps, so different from her usual feline grace.

She scowls at him as he offers her a hand but takes it nonetheless; together they leave the facility and walk out into the open. Still without her helmet, Jack tilts her head backward, letting the heavy rain wash over her face. Shepard feels a shudder pass through her body but cannot tell if she is crying or not.

"The detonator. Give me the detonator."

His hesitation makes Jack snort. "Don't worry, boyscout, I have no intention to die on this fucking pile of shit of a planet."

"Never thought so. Here you go."

Passing her the detonator, his hand briefly covers hers. When he helps her into the shuttle, she doesn't protest, either.


	38. On the Waves

_Cerberus. Cerberus._

_The bastards. Fucking bastards. Fucking traitorous bastards._

Betrayed them, betrayed Shepard, just like she  _knew_  they would.

The strain already makes her nose bleed, and there is no end to the Collectors and husks… like on Horizon.

_Worse than on Horizon._

A fucking trap they have walked into.

With her peripheral vision, she glimpses that new kind of husk approaching, and rips it into shreds before it can explode in their faces. Her vision blackens for a moment, though, and she staggers. Diving for cover between the empty pods, she grabs a slim can of concentrated energy drink, to shove into the duct of her helm.

The last one.

She has lost count how far they have to fight yet, the place looks all the same to her – no edges or angles, just winding round, round, round, like some giant beehive, the slicky substance on the walls revolting even through the hardsuit, and those pods, all empty, everywhere.

_Look what they have hatched… empty pods. Empty ship._

_You're_ dead _, Illusive Man. Dead. Dead. I'll rip through these to get to you. I will. For your betrayal. For what you did to me._

 _To_ us. We _will get you._

_We._

She never imagined Shepard fighting with rage matching hers. And, man, what a  _beast_  he is.

With her energy temporarily renewed, she helps clear their way a little further while Shepard, Grunt and Massani cover their retreat with the Collectors' own guns. Replacements are lying everywhere, after all, while the team is low on thermal clips. Jack hasn't used her Carnifex in a while but her biotics is flowing through her, around her, making the world blur in blue fire while EDI's instructions lead them on through the creepy maze.

 _You're not getting us, fuckers. Either of you_.

The bug thing the like of which nearly fried Shepard on Horizon appears to block their escape but this time falls soon enough: to the particle beams, and to the rage. The whole team is gliding on its waves, it seems: no fear, no pain, no bloodloss can stop them from ripping through their enemies, to the freedom, and to the reckoning.

_Just keep coming, bastards. We'll rip you to pieces._


	39. Hands

The moment on the shuttle is brief and filled with ragged breath, and then they finally stumble onto the  _Normandy_ 's landing pad, all covered in blood and ichor from head to toe. Kasumi and Taylor are carried out; Grunt and Massani support each other, the assassin is pressing an oxygen mask to his mouth, Samara's normally blue face is ashen grey, and…

"You, bitch! See what he's done? What your precious Illusive Man has done?" Still high on adrenaline and rage, Jack strides over the hangar on wobbly feet.

The Cerberus bitch, the perfect pale mask smeared with blood, blinks with those cold blue eyes but once. "I'm sure he had his reasons, that there is a logical explanation… there must be…"

"Yeah, just like for what he did to me on Pragia, right?"

"That wasn't his doing, that was a rogue cell! He only does what is necessary –"

"Necessary? Screw you, bitch, I'll –"

"Jack." Shepard's hand on hers, stopping the punch.

 _Shepard_.

It catches her unprepared, and before she can collect herself, or perhaps lash out at them both, the Cerberus bitch makes the fatal move.

"I'm telling you that it wasn't his doing, but even so, you were clearly a mistake!"

Pale like everyone else, Shepard suddenly sports bright red spots on his cheeks. "Not his doing? You're supposed to have a superior brain, Miranda, so  _use_  it! You're calling Teltin a rogue cell just because they didn't deliver results, because if they did, he wouldn't give a fuck  _how_  they did it! Just like he didn't give a fuck over letting us walk into a trap!"

For the tiniest instant, her dry lips tremble before Lawson turns on her heel abruptly. On her way out, she nearly bumps into Chakwas and her assistants, and in a moment, everyone is fussing over with medkits and Shepard is giving orders and –

\- he is –

"You alright?" he asks hoarsely as she staggers.

"Yeah," she mutters, feeling exhaustion taking the toll. He is still –

Shepard manoeuvres her to sit on a crate. " _Are_  you alright?"

"Sure, boyscout," she grumbles, wondering where that warm feeling inside came from.

He slumps next to her, still holding her hand. "That was fucking close. Damn, if I could get my hands on the Illusive Man's neck…"

 _Hands_. She watches his hand clapped over hers: hardsuit on hardsuit, blue on black under the gore. "Thanks for, you know…"

He flashes her a tired smile. "You're always welcome. But, I shouldn't have ruffled her feathers so much. I'll have to try and butter her up, later. – But never mind her now. I -"

Right then, Chakwas turns up, and tells them both off for not seeking her attention, and Shepard finally lets go of Jack's hand.


	40. Dreams, Dreams, Dreams

Shepard is with her, his firm, lean body pressing against hers, his hands on her tits, his cock deep between her legs, his mouth on hers. Hot and aroused, she wraps her legs around him, feeling the play of muscles with each his thrust. She runs her hands over his chest, down along the length of his arms, smooth and hairless. She covers his hands with hers: large, callused hands but shapely, strong but nimble. Those hands know where to touch her light and where to touch her firm, and she slides her palms from the hands up the forearms. She likes the sight of Shepard in short sleeves so much, and now she feels cords and muscles under the smooth skin, contrasting with the rough stubble as he is kissing her. She opens her eyes, to look into his –

– and they are those pale eyes of the Cerberus doctor, the one whose arms were covered in thick blonde hair, always showing between his cuffs and the hem of the gloves, and he's pinning her down with those ugly hairy hands, pinching and probing and  _violating_  –

She wakes with a scream and sobs in terror several times before she realizes for good that this was a dream, just another fucking stupid bad dream. She killed Doctor Fresco, smashed him against the wall so hard that his skull and spine broke, and those hairy hands of his twitched but couldn't do a thing to her any more.

As her throbbing heart slowly calms down, Jack stares long into the dim maintenance lighting. Unable to fall asleep, she starts stroking herself, still wet from the dream, her fantasy drifting to its first part and Shepard's body hard on hers. As she is drifting towards sleep after she finds her release, she thinks hazily that it's good that he keeps his body hair depilated. Most guys who spend so much time in the hardsuit do; she does, as well – it's convenient for adherence of the inner surfaces to skin as well as for hygiene.

And, above all, it's convenient for the touch. She's never been voluntarily with anyone hairy, ever.

Falling asleep, she can almost feel what it is like to touch Shepard's bare skin for real.

* * *

**A/N:** _Thanks to the Cheeky Monkey of DA, who helped me refine the vocab, especially **Caraine**!._


	41. A Solution

_The man is weird. Setting me off._

His hand over hers.

_What does he want?_

She thinks of him a lot these days, and has for quite some time, she realizes. Way too long, way too much, and it unsettles her. She has been there before, after all, and never saw it coming until it was too late.

 _Or you never saw it at all_ , pipes in a voice, and she bites her lip as the memory of Murtock always makes her to.

_I never wanted to see it until it was too late._

_Damn the man. Damn him. Life together, such bullshit._

Not what Shepard wants, definitely. He's not a type for such…

And she bites her lip again because Murtock didn't seem the type, either. He sure had no scruples when it came to her biotics, or sex…

Kicking with the tip of her boot into the wall of her hideout, she wonders whether the king of boyscouts is just being shy about it or what the hell his issue is. She is  _sure_  that he is interested, but he is so fucking controlled most of the time, so  _professional_ …

 _So nice_ , says that stupid voice, as if it didn't remember the other times when guys were  _nice_  to her at first. The naïve fool she was, she was even buying it, until she learned, time and again, what it was all about. Seems, she is in for another lesson. Or perhaps Shepard is. He has a good body, the fuck would be enjoyable. She likes strength and good muscle, after all.

That must be it, then. Almost certainly.

But, hell, if he is interested, why the fuck doesn't he say so? It's not like he didn't come talking to her practically every day.

 _Nice. Friendly_.  _He_ …

Irritated, she realizes that her eyes are welling. It happens to her way too often, of late. She needs to focus on her –

_Revenge?_

She remains motionless as it dawns on her that the destruction of the Teltin facility somehow undercut that inner drive which kept her going on many a moment when she just wanted to curl and die. Instead, there is…

Alarmed, she sits up on her bed, remembering all those moments when she felt so  _safe_  with him.

_Fuck. Fuck._

_Yes, that is a solution. A fuck. That's all there is to it_.


	42. Shepard, Shepard, Shepard

She knows she'll find him working out late, he often does during the night shifts. His lycra sweatsuit is clinging to his body, enhancing its shape, each straining muscle visible as he is jogging on the treadmill.

She feels her pulse quicken at the sight, and her insides tighten.

"Hey, Jack," he notices her and jumps off the treadmill, but then pauses as she strides towards him and stops too close.

"So I've been thinking, what it is that you want from me, coming and talking and laughing and playing friends and what not," she says, "and I thought, heck, why not? Is that what you want, Shepard? A little fuck? Because I sure do." And as he opens his mouth, she leans onto him, pulling him closer for a rough kiss, her hand firm on his nape, feeling the sweat and heat emanating from his body; the smell of his fresh sweat and the aftershave he uses; the taste of his mouth…. her other hand finds his groin, cupping him and feeling him harden.

He doesn't break the kiss immediately but somehow, he brings it to an end and pulls slightly away while pressing into her palm. "Make no mistake," he says, slightly out of breath, "I do want you but not like this. Damn, I want this right. I want to be with you, I want to know you –"

"You don't need to know someone to fuck them, all you need to know is where to put your dick," she snaps, irritated by the interruption.

"I want  _you_ , not a fuck." He takes hold of both her hands, firmly, and pulls them away. "And, above all, I want your  _trust_."

She knows that she is gaping but is unable to do anything about it, especially as he quickly brushes his lips against the top of her head and lets go of her to step back: "Good night, Jack."

She finds her voice to yell at him in frustration only when he is by the door: "Don't the fuck pretend that this is about something else! It's what everyone always wants, everyone!"

He pauses but slightly. "I am so sorry that you believe this."

And then he's gone, and she keeps blinking furiously, to keep her eyes dry.


	43. Limits

Mordin had produced an unexpected warning during the talk about stasis fields. Chakwas had kept dropping meaningful looks and remarks at every opportunity. Kelly had accosted him in the corridor, puppy eyes brimming with the desire to help, and delivered a lecture on emotional deprivation and sex as a test of intentions.

Fucking everyone and their mother had an opinion on relationships with unstable biotics.

Fucking everyone including Shepard himself thought that keeping sex out of the game just yet was a good idea.

Turned out, some parts of Shepard had a different opinion and brain nearly got opted out. Right in the gym, of all places.

Standing in the shower, switching from cold to hot and back again, he has to admit that this was no strategic retreat but a full-fledged flight.

He is not used to fleeing when things don't go as planned.

He had anticipated the moment, had prepared a talk, had… nearly had her then and there.

_You nearly screwed up, Shepard._

_I need to tread more carefully. I don't want to hurt her._

_I'll talk to her, the first thing in the morning. With a cold head._

His musings are interrupted by the chiming sound that EDI makes every time she needs to address him in his quarters.  _"I do not wish to interfere, Commander, but in case you are running a test of the ratio of water assigned to your quarters, I should inform you that there is no limit set. However, I should also inform you that the capacity of the filtering units –"_

"Yeah, EDI, thanks. Point taken," he mutters, stopping the water with a shivering hand, and waiting resignedly for the effect of the stream of warm air drying his body.

_In the morning. With a cold… head._


	44. The Moon's Rays

By the Flotilla standards, her place is huge – a whole section of the Engineering just for herself. The two new engineers are friendly enough, though she misses the old  _Normandy_  crew… as well as its  _genuine_  privacy.

By the Flotilla standards, the bugs are unbelievably clumsy, and disabling them a children's game.

Cerberus' idea of human supremacy apparently needs a reality check but Tali cannot be bothered to provide one. Messing with whoever is collecting the data from the devices is much more fun, after all.

Letting them know that they are being messed with is just a cherry on the cake.

Tali is fairly sure that she is not the only one on board liking her privacy  _and_  being able to ensure it, but she suspects that Garrus's methods are sort of more straightforward than alternating white noise with sequences of various porn from Joker's best collection, with loops of real but meaningless conversation in between.

Seeing the  _looks_  that Lawson gives her behind her back – do those Cerberus figures think that Tali gets her visuals only through her face mask? really? – she knows that she does her job well. It's none of the Cerberus business what she and Shepard talk about when he stops by to talk – way too little, way too short, compared with the time he spends down below, with the woman who wears her tattoos much like an environment suit against a hostile world.

Tali doesn't begrudge Jack of Shepard's time, and though she cannot perceive the value in her the way Shepard does, knowing that he does is enough for her.

Besides, the human body language is not so different from quarian, if one knows what to look for, and what Tali sees is highly enticing: a side of Shepard that he normally doesn't show, and a side of Jack that the convict herself probably never thought existed.

 _A sucker for romance, I am_ , Tali chuckles to herself with guilty pleasure,  _but, keelah, this one is the most unorthodox that I have seen! Er, heard. Whatever._

And as there is no moon's shining light to hide two lovers with its rays from Cerberus, she does the job instead.

Messing with the bugs a floor below is a children's game, as well.

* * *

 **A/N** : _The reference to the moon's rays is the quote from Tali's favourite vid, mentioned in the Citadel DLC. _And, yes, I'm very much afraid that Tali is blocking your access to the talk between Jack and Shepard after their, uh, encounter in the gym :P__


	45. Ways of Concern

"You're nuts, Shepard! Totally screwed up in the head! Going into a batarian prison colony on your own, just because some old Alliance fucker asks you to! What did those fucks ever do for you when you needed them, huh? And now they just whistle and you nearly shit your pants to do what they want! You hear me? Fuck, you even listening?"

Seemingly intent on checking his hardsuit's systems, Shepard conceals a grin. Ever since she stormed into his cabin, Jack hasn't given him a single chance to interrupt her tirade on his mission to Aratoht, the Alliance, Hackett and himself. "You were saying?"

An inarticulate yell as Jack kicks the nearest piece of his equipment.

"I'm gonna need that," he says reproachfully, which elicits another yell and a stream of profanities. He springs up just in time to prevent any further damage to the plating and to the visor which nearly got in the way. "I'm  _really_ gonna need these," he repeats, still holding her by the waist, "and this is not the first time I'm going on a solo mission. I was trained for this, remember?"

"Screw your training," she spits, making only a half-hearted attempt to wiggle out of his arms. "Screw  _you_." But for all the bravado, her eyes are glistening way too much, just like when she told him about that guy Murtock who died for her.

"Hey," he tries to soothe her. "It actually won't be that bad. The batarians are not expecting us, and they sure are not expecting  _me_. I'll infiltrate the prison and get that Doctor Kenson out before you say  _fucking four-eyes._ "

She snorts right into his face because she is not stupid and knows as well as him how things can go south in a single instant, but this is the closest that he can get to holding her and telling her that everything will be alright. "You're. Fucked. Up," she repeats, with emphasis on each word as if he was retarded and didn't get it the first time already.

"Yep," he agrees but she figures him out and moves away before he can kiss her on her forehead.

Still, he smiles at her: she cares way too much for not wanting a  _dumbshit love affair,_ and it makes him feel that he could rip through the batarians with his left pinky.

"You  _suck_ ," Jack says, with precisely the same intonation like when she wants to be convinced of the contrary. "Don't you  _dare_  not to come back in one piece, dumbass!"

 _I could go with dumbass for darling, with that look_ , he realizes.

* * *

_**A/N** : Yep, Arrival takes place now. It sure never occured to me that if I can do the DLC missions within the game, they are supposed to take place after its ending. When I found out, it was too late, the events were already firmly incorporated in my headcanon, so let's consider this slightly AU and move on._


	46. Click and Stomp

_Click, click, click, click_ , Lawson paces across the cockpit in one direction,  _click, click, click_.

 _Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp,_  Jack's boots resonate in another, " _fuck," stomp, stomp._

 _Screw you both,_  Joker thinks. He forces a smile. "Would you two consider moving to pace elsewhere? I have, you know, a ship to run here."

The two women, pointedly ignoring each other, scowl at him in unison. "You're –  _fucking_  - doing nothing," they snap at him simultaneously, though Jack finishes a word later.

"I am staying alert in case Shepard makes a call and I need to respond ASAP, and the two of you are distracting me. I would also like to remind you that once we end the radio silence, our presence might be detected even with the stealth regime on and we will be drowning in batarians in no time at all, for which, again, I need to be ready and focused, which is next to impossible with the two of you stomping and clicking right behind my back just because Shepard is taking his time-"

"He's been gone for  _two_  –  _fucking_  – days!" This time, the two women scowl at each other, apparently not thrilled by playing echoes.

 _Two fucking days_. And Joker is sitting on his ass, wondering whether he has let Shepard die a second time. He swivels the chair. "Now, would you two just get out –"

"I'm picking up a transmission," EDI interferes.

As the familiar voice issues from the comm –  _tense, tired, what the hell has been going on?_  – relief momentarily washes over Joker before he realizes  _what_  it is that Shepard is saying.  _Destroy? The relay?_  Feeling his jaw drop, he meets the blue and brown eyes, mirroring his own shock, and then the comm goes abruptly silent.

With the clarity that such moments sometimes bring, he notices how Lawson's lips draw in a tight line, while Jack's tremble.


	47. The Meaning of Silence

She caught a glimpse of the Alliance fucker as he was leaving:  _old bastard, cold like a dead fish_. It doesn't surprise her in the least that an hour later, when she finally gives in and slips into the medbay, she finds Shepard still sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

Curiously, she doesn't feel the slightest urge to mock him for that.

"You had no choice," she offers softly.

He slowly raises his head, and she gulps, seeing his face. "I'd put a bullet through my head if I had the slightest doubt that I could have done anything else."

"You couldn't, and those fuckers had better wrap their heads around it. They can't get you, anyway – or can they?"

"That doesn't really matter. As long as I stay outside the Alliance space, Hackett will keep them off my tail. Anderson is trying to stall the Council meanwhile but… the Citadel space will be off the limits soon, as well. There is no way they're letting me keep the Spectre status after this. They might even send someone after me into the Terminus systems but that will take time. Meanwhile, we just have to wrap up this mission …"

It takes an effort to cross the medbay but she does, stopping short of touching him. "And afterwards?" she asks hoarsely.

Shepard just shakes his head, burying it in his hands again.

Almost of her own volition, her hand hesitantly touches his shoulder. At first, a tremble is the only response, but then, suddenly, her hand is snatched and pressed to his cheek.

It is only natural that like this, Jack needs to step even closer. His arm wraps around her hips and his face hides against her midsection; in an ultimate intuitive move, her other hand cradles his head. It is awkward but it feels right, even though she just stands and does nothing else.

She is almost sorry when he finally pulls away: she has never felt so  _intimate_  before.

They don't speak afterwards, and only much later does she realize that what she thought meant  _I don't know_  was actually  _I don't want to speak about it_.


	48. Not Alone

The  _Normandy_  is so empty that it makes her skin crawl, and though she knows there cannot be any more Collectors on board, the silence of the mess hall is getting at her. No Gardner to tease with nasty glances, no fucking annoying Chambers giggling over her coffee, no composed Chakwas watching her as if she knew way too more than Jack cares to admit.

She helps herself to some packed food and juice, and the way back to her retreat is long and quiet but for her footsteps. The engineering is also empty, with the engineers snatched away and Tali working with Garrus and Jacob in the armory.

Empty and quiet, she should enjoy being finally on her own, but she doesn't.

"Fuck, we're gonna get them back, everyone," she says aloud, as the words could make that true. As if the words could get them through whatever it is that awaits them on the other side of the Omega Four relay.

_Death, most likely. No-one has ever come back from there._

Death doesn't scare her, she knows that the moment will come, eventually, and she won't go down without a fight, without settling the bill  _beforehands_.

 _Other_  bills will remain unsettled, though. Other things. Things she wants.

_What do I want?_

In the eerie quiet of the empty ship, tears come easily.

Forgotten, the food and drink remain where she has put them, as she retraces her way from the dark underbelly. Her heart races in the elevator, in the corridor, before his cabin. It chokes her just as she says, "Shepard," cutting off everything else she meant to tell him when the door opens, but it doesn't matter. One moment, she is in the doorway, the other, in his arms. She doesn't see what his surprised expression changed into because she buries her face into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably while he is murmuring some comforting nonsense. He holds her, he cradles her, but it is not enough; she raises her head to find his mouth, to get rid of the taste of tears. He holds back as they kiss, though, and she groans into his mouth impatiently: she wants more, she needs more: to feel him, on her, in her, around her.

"Jack…"

She closes his mouth with another kiss and his hands press her to him but still he manages to disengage long enough to ask: "Do  _you_  want this, or do you just think that's what  _I_  want?"

"I want to… to…" A new bout of tears wells as she realizes that she is unable to finish the sentence. _I'm so messed that I can't even say the word…_

He seems to understand, though, and they lose themselves in each other, giving her hope that at least for this once, it won't be yet another lie.


	49. The Ways of Trust

His heart is still beating fast and their skin is molten together with sweat. Jack is lying in his arms, on top of him, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. Now and then, her body shudders and he can feel some more wetness running down his shoulder and collarbone but in between, she lies relaxed, with her arms wrapped around him.

He lets his hands roam over her, slowly, gently, focusing on the smoothness of the skin, as if the scars were not there, till eventually, he feels her falling asleep, or close enough.

Years ago, he was visiting friends on the Arcturus Station who could afford the astronomical cost and kept a cat – a young kitty who, for some reason, decided that Shepard's lap was the best place ever for an afternoon nap. As soon as he got the knack of the basics of cat petting, it relaxed to the point of almost melting over his legs: a soft, warm, purring puddle. The trust with which the animal took to a complete stranger astonished him; feeling the same trust emanate from Jack now threatens to undo him in so many ways that he doesn't dare to think about it at all.

Instead, he slowly circles his fingers along her spine, focusing his mind solely on that movement. He doesn't want to think about what will come in just a few hours, and even less on what is to come after that, especially as the chances are that neither of them will live to have  _that_  conversation, anyway. Now is all they have, and it cannot be wasted on doubts or remorse.

For the time being, it is just Jack, in his arms, and that is all that matters, or so he tells himself.


	50. The Right Choice

The fucking bugs are everywhere, kept at bay by hers and Samara's fields, and the Collectors and husks are swarming in… and the team is carving their way through. Through the whole fucking Collector base.

' _Told ya we were coming for our folks, fuckers._

Chambers, from head to toe covered in slicky goo, is rocking back and forth but otherwise is unharmed and so far blissfully unaware how close she was to being turned into goo herself. Chakwas is tending to her while degooing herself best she can with some Collector stuff, Lawson and Mordin are treating those who look worse for wear, and Shepard…

Shepard is watching those transparent tubes, leading somewhere deeper into the base, listening to something that EDI is relaying to him.

"What now?" Jack asks, the heat of the fight making her recall acutely the touch of his bare skin on hers.

"Now we're going to finish them off. We've come to plant a bomb here, and I know just the right place for it." He jerks his head towards the tubes and Jack grins, though he probably cannot see it through the visor. "No need to bring everyone in, though, and we need to take care of the crew, anyway."

"So who are you going to take along?"

"Garrus, and…"

Scoffing at his hesitation, she steps closer. "Don't you  _dare_  to think of taking anyone else, dumbass!"

He pulls her to him, visor to visor. No words are needed.

They barely make it behind the corner when they hear the covering team's fire but they keep pushing on; Shepard, Garrus and her.

_The way it should be. His pal and his gal. The best company to…_

_To die in._

Squaring her shoulders, Jack growls furiously.  _Don't you dare to die on me, dumbass. You are coming back with me, even if I should bring you out in my teeth._


	51. Distracted

The thing hung above nothingness, attached to the transparent tubes pulsing with liquid that used to be living, breathing human beings, is a nightmare in its enormity. Yet, despite its size, Shepard feels as if it is  _him_ , propped up in between life and death, reconstructed from scratch of tissue and metal. The empty sockets, the metallic grin, the artificial cords entwining the joints…

He knows, he  _knows_  that his bones were regrown, that what shows in the X-rays and scans is just the Cerberus improvements, the implants, the hardweave… yet, all of a sudden, his stomach cramps, a nightmare of the early days after his awakening flowing before his eyes.

_His skin is only a thin cover, hiding the metal and orange-glowing implants underneath, the springs and gears running smoothly, and as he moves, the metallic joints burst through the skin, tearing him apart –_

"What are we waiting for?"

Jack intervenes, Jack, warm and alive, in the smooth asari hardsuit as if nude – nude as she was in his arms, and he felt her, smelled her, tasted her…

Her body against his, alive.

 _I am alive. No matter what they did to make it happen. I am_.  _She is the proof._

"Nothing. We bring it down before we get company," he says, unslinging his sniper rifle.

Garrus' voice is tinged with amused subvocals. "The company is coming already. We'll take care of it, don't you be distracted again."


	52. Always

Her vision blackening, her breath rasp, she chokes on her blood and cannot find the strength to wriggle from under the debris that is pinning her down.

Then, Shepard is there, setting her free and pressing a can of energy drink into the duct of her helm. She gulps eagerly, washing away the taste of blood while Shepard injects medigel into the hardsuit system. "Hell, I love you," she mutters among the pieces of the dead proto-Reaper. "We did it…"

He pulls her to her feet and holds her in his arms. "I love you, too, but we need to get out of here. Can you walk, or shall I carry you?"

"Walk. Just give me a hand."

"Always."

Still a bit dizzy, the race through the base to the  _Normandy_  is a set if disconnected images. Garrus, covering their retreat, Shepard cleaning the way ahead. The cover team, still holding the path clear for them, Samara's blue corona, and Grunt firing the Collector particle rifle, laughing like mad.

And then, the violently shaking platform, and the  _Normandy_  hovering just above, and suddenly, Shepard is not there, it's the Cerberus boy Jacob helping her on board, and the team are jumping on, except Garrus and Grunt and Thane and –

"Shepard!"

The mass of Collectors is pushing on while the station is tearing apart, and the Normandy is flailing in turbulences. The turian and the krogan make it while the drell assassin runs in the opposite direction, his biotic field providing a temporary obstacle, and Shepard –

The edge of the platform crumbles away, and even before he jumps, Jack knows that he cannot make it.

She didn't know she had the strength for that last  _pull_  before she does it, and then the hatch is closed and the Normandy flees madly through the debris field, away from the centre of the explosion obliterating the base and all within.

Breathless as he hit the floor hard because she overdid it again, Shepard's hand only finds hers.

"Always, dumbass," she mutters before she passes out of exertion, "always."


	53. Sobering

Wrapping up a dangerous mission has always been like that: bringing about light-headedness and increased libido. It's natural, he supposes, the system needs to get rid of all the tension and to savour the victory, the survival against the impossible odds.

Yes, the Reapers are still there somewhere and the odds are impossible again, but hell, they've just  _done_ it, against impossible odds, no less, and came back to tell the tale through the Omega-Four relay.

Yes, the Normandy is battered, practically no-one escaped without a scratch and Thane's sacrifice is grieved, but still, they did it, it's time to recuperate, repair, catch their breath…

…except one more challenge ahead.

_Jack._

The sex is awesome, a mixture of tender and wild, and intense when nothing is held back, nothing. In between, nothing is held back, either: Jack finds every little moment, every opportunity, to be with him, to touch him, to talk to him. When they talk, she doesn't just sit next to him, she curls on his lap:  _that young kitty again_. He loves to hold her, to touch her back, but each and every time, the euphoria of the victory is being washed away, bit by bit, and the dark pit in his stomach grows deeper and deeper.

He has to tell her, finally, what he has promised Hackett, and there is no fooling himself: she's not going to take that well.

No matter which scenario he ponders, he can tell a screw-up even beforehands.


	54. Dark

_Jack, we need to talk,_  he'd said, and now she's looking at him, her eyes wide, uncomprehending. The eyes of the little girl who had only a table to hug; the girl who has been abused and betrayed each and every time when she came to trust, and now it's happening to her again, all over.

And it's  _him_  who is doing it to her, he who has made such a spectacle of being there for her and not wanting her hurt.

 _It's not like that,_  he tries to tell her,  _I do love you and I will be back, I promise,_  but she cannot hear him, lost in that dark, angry and lonely place where not even that table exists any more.

When he comes to, there is not a trace of her, and Chakwas is fussing over him with her 'tool and a tube of medigel. His nose is a swollen, bloody mess, and there is also a bloody lump at the back of his head as he has hit the locker.

Neither hurts half as much as he feels he deserves.

"Where is she?" he asks, his voice sounding weird because of the nose.

" _Jack has left the Normandy,_ EDI informs him when Chakwas doesn't say a word.

"Where to? How long has it been?"

As he tries to get up, Chakwas holds him down, unexpectedly firmly. "Don't, Commander. Just don't. It's bad enough as it is."

 _You're wrong, doctor,_  he thinks.  _It's worse than that. She is out there, without protection, angry and hurt and alone._   _And it's all my fault._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of the ME2 storyline. Thanks and hugs to everyone for the kudos!  
> The events after the ending of ME2 and the continuation into ME3 will be a separate story, under the title Moments In Time, Moments In Space.

**Author's Note:**

> For the new readers: I'd like to point you to some other works of mine which are related and might be referenced - though you are, of course, most welcome to read everything :-)
> 
> Shepard's pre-Akuze life is featured in chapters 2 and 3 of Unmemorabilia, and be warned, this is a collection of stories where he doesn't exactly shine.
> 
> The events of Akuze are told in detail in Long Days, Long Nights, and the debriefing that followed is chapter 4 of the Anderson collection Between the Past and the Future. His convalescence after Akuze is chapter 4 of Unmemorabilia and a catharsis of sorts will be a stand-alone story A Measure of Things, but I'm afraid this plot bunny is still running free for the time being.
> 
> Shepard's first experience with Cerberus aka his revival and roots of his dislike of Miranda are set in chapter 1 of Unmemorabilia and further played on in Detrimental to the Mission, on a somewhat humorous note.


End file.
